


Give Me a Hand of Yours

by footsieinthegarden



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Enjolras, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footsieinthegarden/pseuds/footsieinthegarden
Summary: Grantaire and Enjolras prepare to spend their first New Year's Eve together as a couple and navigate what that looks like with Enjolras's asexuality.





	Give Me a Hand of Yours

**Author's Note:**

> The germ of this idea came to me when I was thinking about how hard it is to write a character as ace without having to explicitly discuss it, and how so many people (myself very much included!) seem to fall into the trap of using kissing as a stand-in for sex. Especially ironic because I'm very much in the kissing-repulsed camp. So of course I turned into a fluffy little fic.
> 
> Also I just really needed to write some totally-supportive!allopartner stuff.
> 
> The title comes from the bit in Auld Lang Syne about holding hands, because why not go all in.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Grantaire looked over Enjolras, and because his boyfriend was staring straight ahead, Grantaire took the time to admire how the snow had collected in his eyebrows. Also, because his boyfriend was staring straight ahead, he used the opportunity to squeeze his hand.

“You know, it’s very ableist of you to say something like that and assume I won’t need to sit down to hear such monumental news.” That was enough to make Enjolras turn to glare at him.

“Grantaire, you shouldn’t joke about things like th-” Grantaire used that opportunity to pull Enjolras’s hat down over his face. His boyfriend spluttered and when he was done fixing the terrible damage Grantaire had wrought on his hair (which was not a hardship to watch,) he softened and gave a shy smile (which was even better, and not something Grantaire thought he’d ever get used to, at least not before the heat death of the universe.) 

Grantaire bumped their shoulders together as they rounded a corner. “Do tell - what was occupying your mind this time? There’s no need to be nervous. I’m sure it was me.”

That earned Grantaire another glare, but it was worth it when Enjolras turned pink (OK, Grantaire couldn’t actually tell because the cold had already turned Enjolras rather red, but he liked to pretend) and mumbled, “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Grantaire bumped his shoulder again. “I’ll count that as a victory.”

“Don’t make fun, Grantaire,” Enjolras snapped, but after Grantaire squeezed his hand twice, he sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“You know I think stress looks unfairly flattering on you, but that’s not exactly the appropriate look for a holiday.”

“New Year’s Eve is an arbitrary holiday that only has meaning because enough people have decided it should.”

“So is National Cake Day, but you don’t hear me complain about it.” He linked their arms together. “And I expect you to get this Grinchiness out of your system before Joly hears you raining on his Magical Thinking Parade.”

“That’s quite the mixed metaphor,” Enjolras commented but he glanced at Grantaire every few seconds instead of staring into space. “Did you notice anything strange about Courf’s holiday party this year?”

They had stopped to wait for a light to change, so Grantaire took full advantage to clutch at his heart and roll his eyes. “I have no idea of what you speak. Unless, of course, you’re referring to Courfeyrac’s Super Special Awesome Winter Holiday Extravaganza, Featuring Good Cheer, Joy, and Copious Alcohol.”

Enjolras huffed. “You knew what I meant.” He took a deep breath. “And my question still stands.”

In Grantaire’s opinion he deserved a gold star on his Good Boyfriend Chart for pondering the question and not asking if Enjolras meant how Combeferre had gotten far drunker than Courfeyrac or how Bahorel had not been able to bench press Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta all at the same time or how only two of Jehan’s gifts had been skulls. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m honestly not sure.”

His boyfriend pulled his scarf up over his mouth, which only added to the cute factor, but it did make it harder to understand Enjolras when he mumbled again. “There wasn’t any mistletoe.” 

Grantaire stopped walking and turned Enjolras by his elbows to face him. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Was this going to be just like the time he hadn’t realized Enjolras had intensely adorable fantasies about what couples did for Sweetest Day instead of hating it with the expected fiery passion? “Did you want there to be mistletoe?” he asked even as he tried to think where he could get some a week after Christmas. Jehan probably had some, and there had to be some in the trash somewhere. Joly could loan him a clean sweater for the party after he fouled his current one. Plan: complete.

Except he didn’t need it after all, since Enjolras shouted “No!” and just about jumped out of his grip. Grantaire left his hands hovering in midair while Enjolras shook himself like a dog, and he felt a lot less stupid about the whole thing when Enjolras then shoved into his embrace. Grantaire shuffled them out of the way of the other, annoyed pedestrians and rubbed Enjolras’s back as best he could with all their winter layers.

“Do you want to go home? Do you want to talk to Combeferre when we get there?” He paused and prepared to back away. “Do you want me to give you space?” 

“No,” Enjolras said after a minute. “No. I don’t know why this is so fucking hard.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hard is getting Jehan’s professors to respect their pronouns. Hard isn’t being in a relationship with me. I can even provide references.” 

“That’s the problem.” Grantaire waited when Enjolras declined to elaborate.

“Does this - is this about kissing?” Thus far he had let Enjolras propose and lead these discussions, half because it was a comfortable dynamic and half because it kept him from stepping on any emotional land mines. And there was zero desire to look the gift horse of sleeping next to Enjolras and snuggling with Enjolras and holding Enjolras’s hand in the mouth.

“Yes.” Enjolras bit out.

“I’m guessing this is about midnight then?”

“Yes.” Enjolras did continue this time. “I’ve thought about it, a lot,” and Grantaire deserved three Good Boyfriend stickers for not interrupting this time, “and it’s such a, I don’t know, such a first world problem that I love you so much but the thought of kissing you is so repulsive.”

“You - you love me?” Grantaire was the one turning red now, even if Enjolras couldn’t tell. 

He got another glare for his trouble. “That’s what you took from that?”

“Sure. I didn’t think the fact we aren’t doing a single thing that you aren’t completely comfortable with was breaking news. I can pull a ten-minute monologue out of my ass about consent and respect in relationships if that would help.”

After what felt like two eternities, Enjolras softened again. “You already show me that, R. And that wasn’t a very romantic way to declare my love, was it?”

“Not really. But that just means we’ll have to keep practicing.” Grantaire smirked until Enjolras smile turned into a laugh. “Because I love you too, you know.”

“I do. And I bet you don’t even have any references for that.”

Grantaire laughed and tucked Enjolras into his side, because fuck the height difference right now. “Just you.”


End file.
